Sorry to be so long with this part. Life got extremely hectic right about the time I posted part 2, and then I got hit by a minor case of writer's block, probably because of everything that was going on. Things seem to have quieted down, however, and as a result, my imagination has kicked back into gear again. So without further ado:

Mother's Day: 3/?
by Nan Smith

Previously:

They began to hum with more conviction this time. With more confidence, CJ closed his eyes, thinking hard at his sister. 'Marta! Can you hear me?'

Marta gave a funny squawk. "CJ?"

'Shh! *Think* at me!'

The sense of shock from his sister faded even more quickly than it had with Linda. 'What are you doing?'

'We're talking with our minds. Telepathy. I think it's a Kryptonian power.'

'Oh wow!' Marta seemed to adjust to the idea with frightening speed. 'But does that mean Wyatt can't talk to us?'

'I don't think so. He's not a Kryptonian.'

'Why not try?' Linda's voice said, breaking in on the conversation with amazing ease. 'He's our friend. Maybe he can learn. Think at him, CJ.'

'Wyatt?' CJ tried.

Wyatt didn't respond. CJ tried again and then shrugged. 'No luck.'

Linda was also trying. CJ could hear her almost shouting at him with her new skill. Wyatt obviously heard nothing.

'Wyatt!' Marta's mental voice rode over both Linda's and CJ's. 'Can you hear me?'

Wyatt's head jerked up. "Why are you shouting at me?" he asked, giving Marta a somewhat irritated look. "I can hear you just fine."

**********

And now, Part 3:

Normally, Bill Henderson regarded the occasional threat received by his office as one of the minor annoyances of his job, but since he was running for Mayor in this year's election, he had been assigned two bodyguards as a matter of course. Between them, Clark and he had decided that the first order of the day was to remove the immediate complication of an eavesdropper by chasing away the pseudo-coach, and allowing Superman to follow him to see where he went. It would have to be done in a way as to avoid even the hint that anyone might think Pilson was spying on the Kent residence, but since the man *was* spying, it was bound to cause him some anxiety. Anxiety was good, in Henderson's personal opinion, because it was likely to send the spy scurrying to his superiors for instruction.

Therefore, shortly after Clark Kent arrived at his family's home, Mr. and Mrs. William Henderson strolled casually up the walk to the Kent townhouse, accompanied by their two bodyguards. They entered the townhouse, and Henderson wasn't surprised to find himself greeted with a blast of sound from various sources.

Lois Lane reclined on the living room sofa, frowning at the screen of the computer that was parked on the coffee table beside her while the television blasted away in the background. In the kitchen, he could hear the sounds of a newscaster's voice, also turned up a little too high. From upstairs, a radio was playing music at a level likely to cause hearing damage, and over that, he could hear the gunfire and explosions of a videogame, accompanied by the occasional child's voice raised in a shout of triumph or frustration.

For an instant, he wondered how Lois could stand the racket, and then he noticed that she was wearing earplugs. An older woman, that he belatedly recognized as Clark Kent's mother, emerged from the kitchen, two white wads of cotton stuffed in her ears. Henderson grinned.

"Got any more of that?" he inquired, making certain not to mention what "that" was. No point in tipping off the snooper -- assuming that he could actually hear anything intelligible over the noise pollution in here.

Martha Kent wordlessly handed him two balls of cotton and he stuffed the substance into his ears. Sue Henderson had stuck her fingers in her ears, and Martha also presented her with a pair of cotton balls. The two bodyguards, a pair of plainclothes police officers, had been briefed as to the presence of the snooper in relation to the fact that the Hendersons were having dinner with the Kents, and the senior officer nodded to his charges. "If you don't mind, sir, Joe and I will just go look around the area to make certain it's secure."

Henderson nodded. "That's a good idea. We'll be fine in here in the meantime."

The two men left, and Clark stepped out of the kitchen. "Hi, Bill. Hello, Sue. Why don't you have a seat in the living room for a few minutes? Dinner will be ready shortly. I'm helping my mom with the last minute stuff. By the way, you were right." He jerked a thumb at the kitchen.

It was just as well, Henderson reflected, that his experience on the Force had made him adept at understanding directions given to him under less than ideal circumstances. Lip reading came in handy, sometimes, even now. Sound wasn't completely blocked, of course, although everyone's voices now had a muffled quality. He nodded to Clark and escorted Sue into the Kents' comfortable living room.

Lois smiled brightly at them and gestured to chairs. "Sit down. So, how are things at the Mayor's office, Bill?"

"Not bad," Henderson said. "The Mayoral campaign is in full swing. Hizzonor is looking forward to some vacation time."

"I know," Lois said. "I hear he's eyeing the Governor's office, next election cycle. I saw your ads on TV this afternoon. I have to say, you've got my vote. I wouldn't vote for your opponent if he were the last politician on Earth. Of all the sleazy, know-nothing, self-important windbags --"

Henderson prudently said nothing, although he privately shared Lois's appraisal of Henry Carruthers. Five years ago, Lane and Kent had brought in enough evidence to indict the top figures of Intergang, including, interestingly enough, Mindy Church, the wife of Bill Church, the organization's previous boss, who had died in prison the year before. It had been a genuine shock to everyone concerned that the seeming blond bubblehead was actually the coldly conniving brain of the organization.

Henry Carruthers had been loosely linked to Mindy Church, but he had sworn that he was unaware of her criminal connections, and nothing had ever emerged to disprove it. Still, Henderson, then on the verge of retiring from the Force, had harbored his suspicions. He'd resolved to keep an eye on Carruthers, at least as much as he was able. Now the man was running against him for the Mayor's seat.

Lois grimaced slightly and rubbed her back. Henderson frowned quickly. "Are you all right, Lois?" he inquired, ignoring Sue's elbow to the ribs. Sue wasn't aware of the special nature of the babies that Clark's wife carried.

Lois gave a long-suffering sigh. "False labor," she said. "I already told Clark that."

Henderson relaxed. "Sorry. I've delivered a few babies in my time, but I don't really want to get back into practice with triplets."

Lois snorted. "I don't want you to have to!" She gestured with her thumb at the front of the house and mouthed, "What's going on?"

Henderson stepped to the window and glanced cautiously through the curtains in time to see one of his bodyguards straighten up and step back from the window of the red car. The vehicle pulled away from the curb and vanished down the street at a leisurely pace.

"I think my guards told him to move on, since he doesn't live around here." Henderson turned toward the television and paused with his finger on the sound control. "Do you mind if I turn this thing down, now?"

"Go ahead. I think the kids are all up in the playroom, so we'll have to wait to turn down the radio in CJ's room." She removed the earplugs from her ears as she spoke and gave a sigh of relief. "I know it was necessary, but I'd really rather not have to do that again for a while."

Martha emerged from the kitchen. "Clark went next door to borrow a cup of sugar," she said. "Do you mind if I turn down the radio upstairs?"

Lois waved at the stairs. "I was hoping somebody would."

Henderson pulled the cotton from his ears. "I'll do it, if you want."

"That's all right." Martha started up the stairs. "I have to call the children to come get their dinner, anyway."

Sue grimaced slightly. "Why on Earth would somebody be eavesdropping on your house?"

"We're not sure," Lois said. "It may have something to do with the Bureau 39 mess a few months ago."

Sue bit her lip. "More people trying to find Valerie and the others?"

Henderson put his arm around his wife. He hadn't been free to tell her about Clark, but she knew the relationship between Valerie, CJ and Linda Lennox. "We aren't sure, but we're going to find out. Superman was waiting to follow that guy as soon as Joe and Harry chased him off. We're going to get to the bottom of this."

Sue nodded, still biting her lip.

"Trust us," Lois said, quietly. "Now, if you can just get rid of the phone bug for us, Bill --"

"I'll do my best," Henderson said. "I've removed a few telephone bugs in my time. Did you have any repairmen in the house recently, specifically in the kitchen?"

"Yeah," Lois said. "This morning. He was fixing the fridge -- again. I think we're going to have to spring for a new refrigerator soon. Martha says it isn't doing much better than it was before."

"Well," Henderson pointed out, "if his main reason for coming in was to bug your phone instead of fixing your fridge, it might be a case of getting a real repairman to do the job. Do you mind if I take a look at the kitchen phone?"

Martha Kent was returning down the steps. "I'll show you where it is."

Henderson followed Clark's mother into the Kent kitchen. There was no sign of Clark, which didn't surprise him. Superman was undoubtedly following the false Pilson to see where he went. He glanced around the room, which was remarkably modern for such an old building. Clark had probably done some redesign work on it, he thought, or at least someone had. For a moment, he thought a bit enviously of the resources that Clark Kent could bring to bear on something like the maintenance and repair of his home, much less the amount of time he must save in just everyday cleaning, and then the humor of the idea hit him and he had to repress a snort. One didn't visualize Superman doing laundry, polishing silverware or scouring out burned food from a pan. Or, for that matter, taking out the garbage, but he probably did all those things. Henderson knew for a fact, from several occasions when he and his wife had dined here, that Clark Kent was an excellent cook. It just went to show that Superman, in his own way, was an ordinary man, if only in his own mind.

"Where's the phone?" he inquired.

"Right here." Martha Kent indicated an alcove in the wall.

Henderson picked up the phone, covering the mouthpiece with one hand, as a precaution. "If someone's listening, I think it would be best if they think it's an accident," he said quietly. "I'm going to make a phone call, and drop the phone. I'll replace it, if it really breaks, but it will provide an excuse for the bug to stop working."

Martha laughed. "I'm sure we can afford a new phone, Mr. Henderson. I'm just glad Clark has you for a friend."

"Bill," he said, aware of a slight sense of embarrassment. "Your son has been a good friend to me for years, and so has Lois, even if I'd never admit it to her out loud. He's still helping me out. Did he tell you about Valerie?"

"No, he never mentioned a Valerie."

That figured. Clark would never talk about a friend's business without his permission. "My daughter. Clark mentioned that you and your husband are the definitive experts on raising a -- gifted -- child. He suggested I talk to you when I can find the time."

"Oh." Martha Kent obviously grasped the situation instantly. "Of course. We'll be glad to help, if we can."

Henderson nodded. "Let's take care of this, first." He uncovered the mouthpiece, began to punch in a number, swore, and dropped the phone to the floor, at the same time reaching to disconnect the phone cord from its receptacle in the wall. "Now," he said. "Let's see what we have here ..."

**********

CJ stared at Wyatt and then at his sister. Wyatt hadn't been able to hear him, but he'd picked up Marta without any trouble. That was really strange, he thought, but they could figure that part out later. He lifted his finger to his lips. "You have to chant," he said. "Don't talk. The spirits won't come if you interrupt." He looked frantically at his sister. 'Marta!' he thought at her. 'Tell Wyatt what's happening, and not to talk out loud!'

Marta had an intense frown on her face. 'Don't talk.' CJ heard her thinking hard at Wyatt. 'Just listen. I'm talking to you with my thoughts. CJ says it's a Kryptonian power.'

Wyatt threw him a wide-eyed look, but CJ saw him press his lips together. CJ winked at him.

'Tell him to listen for me,' CJ directed his sister. 'Maybe he can hear Linda and me if he knows what to listen for.'

He waited while Marta relayed the message, then looked directly at Wyatt. 'Can you hear me, Wyatt?' he thought, as loudly as he could manage.

Wyatt had scrunched his face into a grimace of effort, his eyes squeezed shut. CJ waited, holding his breath. Wyatt's eyes opened wide and he nodded.

'Try talking back,' CJ directed. 'I don't know if you can, but we can try to listen for you.'

Wyatt squeezed his eyes shut again. CJ waited hopefully. He wasn't sure an instant later if the faint sensation in the back of his mind was anything more than his imagination. It was more like a tickle in his brain than anything else, but there was *something* there. Almost like someone whispering to him too softly to understand.

'Can you hear him, Marta?' he asked.

His sister nodded. 'A little. Can you?'

'Sort of. I can't understand what he's saying.'

'I can, but I have to listen hard.'

Linda's "voice" interjected. 'I can hear him a little, but not loud enough to understand.'

Wyatt's face was turning back and forth between them, and his eyes were wide. He looked at Marta, and CJ again felt the tickle in his brain.

'He says maybe he needs to practice,' Marta relayed. 'Wow, this is great!'

'Why can Marta hear him when we can't?' Linda said. 'Think at me, Wyatt. I'll listen real hard.'

'He says he can hear you when he listens, but it's like you're a long ways off,' Marta said. 'But he can hear me real clear. Okay, Wyatt, think at Linda.'

Jonny turned his head. "You guys are making too much noise," he said. "You're making me miss."

CJ gulped. He should have realized his little brothers would pick up the conversation. Fortunately, since they had been humming, the guy with the microphone probably hadn't figured out anything weird was happening.

"Okay," he said. "We'll hold the séance down in my room. Come on, guys." He picked up the paperweight and got to his feet.

Marta glanced through the wall at the street. 'He's driving away! A couple of guys just told him to leave!"

"Cops?" CJ asked aloud.

"I don't know. They're a couple of guys in suits."

Now that he was paying attention to something besides the snooper and the strange telepathic conversation, CJ was aware of voices downstairs. The volume on his mother's soap opera was suddenly lowered. He listened as they gathered their props and gave a sudden sigh of relief. "Mr. Henderson is downstairs. That explains it."

"What does?" Linda asked.

"Mr. Henderson is the Deputy Mayor, remember?" CJ said. "He's probably going to be the next Mayor if he beats the guy running against him. Those two guys were probably his bodyguards."

"Why does he have bodyguards?" Marta asked.

"Don't you ever listen? There's crazy people all over the place. Sometimes Mr. Henderson gets threats from them, 'specially since he's been running for Mayor. He used to be a cop, remember."

For once his sister didn't take offence at the implied criticism. "Oh. Well, I guess we can put this stuff away. CJ, you better take Dad's paperweight back before something happens to it."

"Okay." CJ reclaimed his flashlight and switched it off. "Let's go down to my room. I hope we can talk to Dad about this later. Maybe he knows how to help Wyatt do this better."

The radio in his bedroom cut off as suddenly as the television had, and CJ descended the steps from the attic playroom in time to see his Grandmother Martha emerge from his bedroom.

"I guess Mr. Henderson's guards chased the guy away," he remarked.

Martha Kent nodded, a slight smile on her face. "My goodness, CJ, you don't miss anything around here, do you?"

"Marta saw them," he said. "Where did Dad go?"

"He's following Mr. Pilson to see where he goes. We'll be having dinner in about half an hour, and Mr. and Mrs. Henderson are here, so you and the others should wash up."

"All right, Grandma," CJ said. "How is Wyatt going to get home?"

"Your dad will give him a lift when he gets back. Linda's mother called a little while ago. She's going to be late, so Linda will be eating here. We'll get Wyatt a little snack so he won't be the only one not eating, but we don't want to ruin his dinner."

"Okay, I'll tell her," CJ said. "If you ask me, Wyatt likes the food here better than at his house."

His grandmother's eyes crinkled. "Maybe, but I don't think you should tell his mother that."

CJ shook his head. "I won't," he said. "It might hurt her feelings." He held up the paperweight. "I just have to put this back in Dad's study. We borrowed it for a séance, but now we don't need it anymore."

"A séance?" Martha's eyes crinkled at the corners. "I see."

"I'll explain later," CJ said. "We weren't just playing or anything."

"Oh?"

"No." CJ shook his head. "I need to ask Dad something, too. Something pretty weird happened."

"Weird?" his grandmother asked.

"Uh -- yeah." CJ hesitated. "Grandma, did you know that Kryptonians can talk to each other with telepathy?"

"Where did you hear that word?" Martha asked.

"In a book. It means communicating with thoughts. Did you know that Kryptonians can do that?"

"I think your dad mentioned that the New Kryptonians could. Why?"

"Marta, Linda and I can, too. We can talk to Wyatt with it, but he can't talk back, yet -- except to Marta. She can hear him."

Martha Kent's eyes widened slightly. "You're not pretending, are you, CJ?"

"Of course not!" CJ was slightly outraged at the suggestion. "That's why I wanted to talk to Dad!"

"Oh my!" his grandmother said. She glanced over her shoulder at the stairs that descended to the house's first floor. "I have to finish getting dinner ready, CJ. Go ahead and put the paperweight back and tell the other children to wash up. You're going to be taking your dinners up to the playroom tonight. I'll be sure to tell your father that you need to talk to him as soon as I see him."

**********

The red car moved slowly down Hyperion Avenue until it was a good two blocks from the Kent townhouse, and then Pilson made a sharp right turn onto Tulip. Floating above him just within the lowest layer of the cloud level, Clark followed his progress with nothing to betray to anyone who might be following the false coach that anyone had any interest in him at all.

The car pulled sharply to the side of the road, and Clark watched as the coach extracted a cellular phone and hit the speed dial.

The phone had rung only twice when someone answered.

"Hello?" a cultured female voice said.

"This is Bob," Pilson said. "A couple of Henderson's guards just chased me away from the house."

"Did they suspect you?" the voice asked sharply.

"I don't think so. Henderson's running for his boss's seat. I think they were just being careful."

"Very well. Your report?"

"Nothing," Pilson said, a faint note of disgust in his voice. "I got an earful of some sickening soap opera, and my ears are still ringing from the radio. The kids were doing homework, and Henderson and his wife showed up for dinner. Probably to try to get the Daily Planet on his side for his campaign."

"You're sure they didn't suspect you?" the woman's voice said again. "You spoke to the boy during class today, did you not?"

"Yeah. He didn't act like he was suspicious. He's a kid, for Pete's sake. Eleven years old. He isn't likely to pick up on anything." The man's voice became faintly envious. "Hell of a pitcher, though. Said his grandfather taught him."

"Never mind his sports acumen," the voice said coldly, "and must I remind you to keep a guard on your language?"

"Sorry," the man muttered.

"You will continue your observation tomorrow in class. My contact indicated that he believes the boy to be one of our targets. If we can't verify it one way or the other, we'll have to take further steps to be sure."

"I understand," Pilson said. "What do you want me to do about listening in? Shall I go back after Henderson leaves?"

"No, the car has been noticed. You must do nothing to raise their suspicions. You'll be given instructions, tomorrow." The phone went dead.

**********
tbc


Earth is the insane asylum for the universe.